Page 4 of The Crowned Garza
Her body shakes with silent sobs. “I-I was so scared. I c-couldn’t scream. I didn’t know how to s-stop him. And then the others came in…”
“Shh…it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Once I’m done, I guide her head to my lap and soothe her with one hand while tapping out a text with the other.
Me: Shut it down and clear everyone out or I’m calling the cops.
Zak: Already on it.
We’re at quarterback Zak Killian’s house party in the hills. I’ve had a thing for him for a while now and came here tonight with the sole intention of seducing him, so Lola and I split up shortly after we arrived.
Thanks to my threatening brothers, I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m “Tillie Garza.” Often described as “assertive,” “intimidating,” “loud,” “fearless,” and, most annoyingly, “off-limits.”
Like all boys my age on this side of the world, Zak has been adamant about keeping me in the friend zone. But tonight, I finally made my move and kissed him. He caved and kissed me back. And just when things were starting to heat up, his phone pinged.
He checked it, cursed, then told me what was happening. People were gathered outside a bedroom door, listening to the future politician, Preston Matthews, and his friends assault Lola, and they werelaughingabout it.
I. Saw. Red.
“I’m guessing you don’t wanna file a report, press charges?” I whisper to Lola, running my fingers through her hair.
She shakes her head.
“Well then, I’m calling in reinforcements.”
“No…don’t—don’t call him,” she protests, struggling to get up.
I place a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her settled. “Don’t call who?”
“Tripp. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to see me like this.”
A pang of indignation echoes in my chest. This…this right here is the reason I have no genuine female friends.
See, while the boys steer clear of me, the girls flock to me. Not because they like me, but to use me to get close to my brothers. More particularly, Tripp.
Lola has never once mentioned my brothers before now. She’s quiet and unassuming. She asked me questions about myself, not my brothers. Never pushed me to take her to my home or to invite her to family events. All of which made me believe she was different. But it seems she’s been playing the long game. Tripp doesn’t even know she exists.
“I’ll call Trent, then,” I test.
“No.” She tries to get up again. “If the others know, he will know.”
“Dammit, Lola, we’re not leaving here alone. Those North-U douchebags will do anything to protect their reputation. You think they aren’t planning something right now? I’m not leaving here without more protection than my handgun.” I rub my forehead. “Do you wanna call someone you trust to come get you?”
Her voice is a wispy whisper when she replies, “I trust you.”
Oh, God help me.
~
Forty minutes later, light rain drizzling from the dark sky, I help Lola into the back of a familiar pitch-black Range Rover. When she curls up into a ball on the back seat, I cover her with the varsity jacket Zak gave me on the way out, then shut the door and round to the front seat.
The scent never changes in here. A sinful fragrance of leather and lies, guile and deceit.
“You know, agentlemanwould’ve gotten out of the car to help us,” I carp to the man behind the steering wheel.
“If you truly believed me to be a gentleman, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
His voice is rich, fluid, with just the right amount of bass and timbre to strum every erogenous nerve in a woman’s body, have them sit upright with piqued interest. His tone, however, is dry and emotionless, unaccommodating—though it tends to be like thatonlywith me for some reason.
